


Evidence of Gold.

by undeadc0re



Series: 【ＨＩＶＥＭＩＮＤＶＥＲＳＥ】 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bad Family Life, Dark subject, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Fantasy elements, Heavy Angst, Heavy Violence, Mental Torture, Multi, Murder, Original Character(s), angels & demons, dark pasts, questionable morals, there is some fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25214389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeadc0re/pseuds/undeadc0re
Summary: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐬  𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬.--The sky is  gray and smudged with melancholy life.He wipes the golden tears from his cheeks.
Series: 【ＨＩＶＥＭＩＮＤＶＥＲＳＥ】 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826755
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Blackened Skies and Melancholic Eyes

* * *

The rain fell against the roof of the funeral home, creating a soft _pitter-patter_ song for those huddled inside. 

There were masses of black lace and veils drifting over teary eyes. They were false and masked, hiding true feelings on the matter. The truth was they didn't care for the deceased and they never did. It was to appease the heads of the family and show of their rich fabrics when possible. Such black satin couldn't go unseen. The looming monarch and headstrong patriarch would surely appreciate it, hand in jeweled hand, overlooking their mournful guests.

It was disgusting.

Raphael Orszak, the eldest son and brother to the deceased, stood off to the side in his own ironic black satin suit. He had his hair neatly styled to his tasted, the dusky gold waves softly parted but ever voluminous. His dark eyebrows furrowed in muted annoyance over burning amber eyes, giving him the sunkissed glow he desired. No one looked to him. No one noticed him. He stood with his glass of lukewarm water, flat and tasteless on his tongue, as were the words: " _He would not have liked to see you cry._ "

Gabriel was such a pesky boy, even in life.

He liked tears, to an extent. He liked to make people cry. His funeral would be the perfect place to do this.

The police had claimed his death was an accident. _A random mugging_ , they said. Raphael thought that the body of his dead little brother would plague his mind for ages. The image of him on a cold slab in the morgue, powder blue sheet covering him from his chest down would surely be something of nightmares. Raphael could see the smeared blood, the paleness of death, the purpling lips. Gabriel's hair was sunny blond like always, but tangled where he always had the curles tamed and neat, driving away from his cherub-like face in his own deathly halo.

Raphael burned it to memory.

It didn't drive him to touch a glass of alcohol, nor did he find himself restless. He just traced the smudges of ink around paper until the words blended into nothing, until he's become comfortable with the numbness he felt.

It wasn't normal. He wasn't normal. The tears he felt rise behind his eyes in burning waves never breached the surface.

He'd sigh and go back to work.

* * *

The people at this funeral wore their pitiful masks and threw their mourning parade. 

He saw the faces of men he'd see at the office time and time again, where he worked diligently alongside his father. He saw Meghan Thomas, Gabriel's best friend and their housemate. Her cheeks were round and red, her eyes leaking with genuine tears. Beside her was the towering Nicolas Maslov, Gabriel's boyfriend. He looked like a wreck, although he had always been softer with his masculinity, with kind lilac eyes and snowy skin. The slope of his broad shoulders and looming height had always uneased Raphael, but now, he was just a wilting flower under heavy rain.

He looked away from them. The way they clung to each other for mutual comfort was almost too intimate.

Near the back were two figures about the same height. One was a teenage girl that had quite the obsession with Gabriel since she was young. Her name was Pixie Leslie, which fit her like glue to a stone. Mascara ran in inky streams down her golden cheeks, glimmering hair unruly, and he couldn't bear the sight of her for one reason or another.

Beside her, his boss stood silently. It felt like there were oceans between him and Jasper Young. There was blueness where white crept, stained collars and sharp, crystalline eyes. Jasper was an enigma in the office, with a clean-cut charm and soft, but angular, features that entranced those looking. Raphael was a messy gold that ran between fingers and couldn't remain thinly solid like Jasper.

When Jasper slowly turned to meet his eyes, static erupted in Raphael's mind, drowning the chime of an organ and twinkling bells. All thoughts went black and he almost felt like prey locked by a predator, until he forced himself to look away.

The static cut abruptly.

Raphael hated him. Jasper took positions that should have been his and he soaked up all the praise where it should be given to _him_. His fists clenched at the thought and the rising tide of anger seized him at once.

Something caressed his ailing mind. _Not now_.

"I know the case has been difficult, dear, but there's no reason to let the anger get the best of you now." His Aunt Katherine said, sweeping by him to press a manicured thumb in the space between his eyebrows to smooth out the furrow. "We mustn't fall victim to our demons. Do you read your scriptures?"

They didn't have a killer.

Nor did they have a clue on who it could be.

The drunk or druggie or someone chasing a bloodthirsty high left no trace on who they were. Gabriel's money was still on his person, tucked inside his wallet that remained in his pocket. No phone or jewelry was taken. Everything was too clean to be the work of someone nasty and careless.

Raphael chuckled over his work about that, when he got the update. Humans were truly pigs.

He graced Aunt Katherine with a smile. 

"Of course," He assured her and sent her on her way.

* * *

Somewhere in the corner of the funeral room, he heard the rough accent of Ryker trying to pick up a pretty girl with midnight black hair and sapphire eyes. 

Ryker had been Nicolas's housemate and older brother figure, if the information Gabriel babbled at dinner would be of help. From Raphael's knowledge, Ryker didn't like Gabriel, so he wasn't sure why he was here in the first place. If his further knowledge helped, the girl was familiar, as well. 

He walked over, where the girl seemed intrigued, but disinterested, nonetheless.

"At my brother's funeral?" Raphael asked, letting his eyes drift between the two.

He thinks the girl's name is Novalie Tanaka, the eldest daughter of his father's business associates up in Washington. She was tall and beautiful, if anything, and she dressed well for a funeral. Her father's business did quite well, so her wealth would be just as much as the Orszak's own. He heard it was quite chilly and rainy up and rainy in Bellevue. He wondered if she liked Los Angeles' scalding heat.

"Hey, you live fast and die hard. I didn't even like the guy anyways - I'm just here to support Nicky." Ryker said, leaning on the wall. He looked so unfitting in his rugged leather jacket and frayed jeans. Not even appropriate for a funeral, if his extensive piercings and murky green undercut were anything to go by. The looks he received from those wandering past weren't enough to deter him, if anything. He was too shameless- why bother showing up in the first place?

"Is that right?" Raphael glanced to the side, briefly, before looking back to the taller, bulkier man, "And what if I asked you to leave?"

"Will you?" Ryker challenged, his grin lopsided and burning neon yellow-green eyes excited.

Raphael's lips pulled into a thin line. "Contacts are unprofessional for a funeral, Ryker."

He turned away. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he itched to set down the glass of water he didn't even touch.

* * *

It didn't take him long to find a safe place in the back of the funeral home, away from the mess before him. He turned and saw the sea of black sharks. They moved, they wept, and they gave condolences. It was a repeating cycle of grief, yet they were all a show.

"Raph, hey. I didn't catch you in there. Sorry I'm late, the shift ran a bit long." A soft, familiar voice called out from the doorway. Raphael straightened his posture, turning to see Gia standing there. She was beautiful, her dark and coiled hair in a soft cloud around her head, brushing against the tops of her dark shoulders. She wore black as well, but he knew her grief was true, if the smudges on her circular glasses were anything to go by.

"A sleeveless dress." Raphael mused, gaze tracing the gentle curves of her collarbone from where her dress opened up to her freckled cheeks. 

"It's hot out," Gia smiled bashfully in return, "I didn't think it'd be any cooler in here with this many people."

It was a reach for normalcy. A calling checkup to make sure Raphael was still mentally fairing well.

He sniffed, rubbing a hand under his dry eyes.

"It's hard to believe he's really gone. I can't seem to process it." He told her, thickly, watching as her silver eyes softened in sympathy. "I could barely hold myself together this morning. I woke up and Gabriel was not in the kitchen being the nuisance he is." He gave a broken laugh, "I don't know. I feel like I failed him."

"Raphael, you couldn't have known this would happen. He was always coming home late, anyways, wasn't he?" Gia assured him, moving closer to rub a soothing hand up and down his arm. He leaned into her, if slightly. Her touch was comforting, her fingers nimble from turning the pages of her favorite novels. "They'll find who did this and put him to rest for good."

"Do you really believe that?" Raphael asked, the false note of hopefulness tuning his voice. Gia smiled, nodded, and pulled him into one of her bear hugs. It was comforting despite the slight height difference and he bent down to wind his arms around her waist in an effort to hold her back.

His eyes, which had closed briefly in the process, slowly peered open to sear emptiness into the wall.

* * *

"Mother, Father, is there anything I can do?" Raphael asked, walking up to the casket. 

Gabriel was dressed in the purity of white lace with sparkling gold. Brushing against the hollow of his throat was a silk ribbon, hiding any bruising that might be tainting his image. His hair was styled, looking soft to the touch, and his round cheeks were brushed with some sort of blush.

He looked like a doll high on an antique shelf: prettied up and unmoving, laying in the open casket. Briefly, Raphael admired the handiwork done. There must have been a lot of money put into making him look alive.

Huh.

"There's nothing you could do now." His mother, Clara, spat bitterly. She was upset and a part of his mind reasoned that her irritability came from that, but he knew better. That was just how she spoke to him.

"What do you mean?" Raphael asked, trying to remain pleasant.

"If you had watched him like we asked, this might never have happened!" Clara looked halfway from pulling her hair out. She looked so much like Gabriel it almost hurt. 

His father's hands were heavy, but his mother's words and lack of action was always heavier.

Something unintelligible whispered in the back of his mind. It was almost convincing-

"Raphael...? Are you even listening?" Wyatt's cutting voice broke him from his thoughts. Raphael didn't jump or startled like he normally would, but he did find his gaze quickly resting on his father's stern and worn features. His jaw was clenched, muscles jumping angrily in his cheek. His anger was a reflected mirror, amber burning into amber.

"Why are you so mad?" Raphael asked with a rush of confidence. Usually he'd never question Wyatt, not even bat an eye as to why he was so lashing, but he felt this was the proper time to do so. With so many people around, with so many influential people, Wyatt wouldn't dare risk his image. It was too polished and well-kept for tha. Raphael thought it was funny that his face to the world was more important than how his son viewed him.

Even so, the bruising didn't matter. Nothing did as long as Raphael got approval from him. It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn't help but seek the praise he didn't get as a child. At twenty-four years old, he was still waiting for it. Gabriel had thought he was a fool for seeking out something like that. He'd look at him with furrowed eyebrows and a pout that made him look more like an upset child more than anything. If that's what he was going for, it worked.

_You don't need him to praise you!_ He'd say, _What good has he ever done for you?_

Raphael turned his attention to the casket once more. His existence didn't even matter. Dying at nineteen with no mark in the world only made him a blip in the history of all that knew him. He still looked dolled up for show, just as their parents always had him.

"Why are you so mad?" Raphael asked again, more hollowly this time, "You spent all your time in New York. You weren't watching him, either."

Raphael anticipated for what awaited him at home, where blood could be splattered on their family portraits.

The prayers echoed in his head, the white collar of the priest glinting in the washed-out room as he stretched his arms wide, lowering heads in response.

Raphael kept his head raised, bearing flames with his gaze as he steadied his rage on Gabriel's face. It built and sparked in his chest until it was too much to keep in-

And then it all went blank again.

* * *

As they left the funeral home, Raphael stood by the casket until the black sea drifted out to their vehicles, where they'd leave and pretend like nothing happened the following day. Gabriel was a fleeting daisy, Raphael liked to think, and while his space in the office would be nothing but an empty, ghostly cubicle, life will go on.

Tears will go cold and they'll wipe them free, but Gabriel would still be dead, and that means nothing.

Raphael turned his head to Gabriel's corpse, reaching out to touch his hand. His skin was chilled to the bone, all warmth taken by the reaper. His parents were standing at the front of the doorway, cheeks wet and sniffling to their guests, which left Raphael all alone in the back.

The irritant flooded his body, tasting it on his tongue until the venom overflowed. He caught Gabriel's limp hand in his, squeezing. Like this, before, Gabriel would yelp and tell him to let go, that it wasn't fun to play around.

Raphael got a kick out of the fact he couldn't possibly do that now. He wanted to prove it to his parents, somehow, that he was the living, breathing son and Gabriel was not. He was gone, in the wind, whatever you wanted to call it- but Raphael was still here. Yet, something told him they'd act the same as they always did.

"What good have they done for me?" Raphael demanded of Gabriel's corpse, "What good have _you_ done for me?"

He let go, and all at once, the anger left.

He swallowed it down and turned away.


	2. Perfect Family Photos.

* * *

"You know," Wyatt said, closing the folder after Raphael had presented to him. Too quick, too soon. He didn't even look at it properly. "I think it's inappropriate of you to want to get back to work so soon."

Raphael's smile twitched, unsure of what to say. A part of him knew he should suck it up and say nothing at all, or at the very least, agree with Wyatt. _Yes, Father, it was inappropriate of me to get back to work so soon. Yes, I know, I apologize. What do you suggest I do?_

It's not like he had much social media to wail and whine about his loss on, so how else would he bide his time?

"You have a company to run, Father, I don't-" Raphael tried instead, which felt like a bad route accidentally chosen in some video game with the way Wyatt's face hardened.

"Don't." Wyatt held up a hand and Raphael's mouth fumbled to close, "Don't. That's so heartless of you to say, Raphael. A company is not more important than the loss of a son."

Slowly, Raphael felt his face heat up in humiliation. Maybe he should not have said anything at all.

"Jasper can handle it. You, on the other hand, can properly mourn like the rest of us." Wyatt's voice gradually grew more tense with each spoken word. He sounded like a rubber band waiting to snap, ready to release and unleash everything he was feeling on Raphael.

Unfortunately for him, Raphael wasn't five years old anymore. He no longer covered his head and cried for forgiveness. He was a grown man and built like one. Subtly, his eyes scanned his father up and down, sizing him up just in case.

Just in case.

"I don't know where this is coming from, Raphael, but I can't say I'm pleased." Wyatt added when nothing else was said, rubbing his forehead. He had the shadows of a grieving father, but something bitter in Raphael spoke volumes on how he _knew_ Wyatt wouldn't be like this for _him_.

"You have been like this since he died. I'd just like to know where the boldness is coming from."

"Pardon my brashness, but I don't believe anything's changed. Not for me." Raphael replied, fixing his posture, "However, I believe since I'm the second in command at the company now, everything should be up to date. You don't want to fall because you were weak, right?"

Wyatt's eyebrow jumped in surprise. Raphael, having expected this, gave a small smile.

"Jasper is the working boss in my stead." Wyatt said, slowly, like Raphael was too dumb to understand otherwise, "You know this."

"Mhm, right, but with Gabriel gone, someone needs to pick up after him." Raphael added, "I know you said I'm second in charge, but we both know it was really Gabriel. Even Jasper answered to him like he was. What I'm meaning to say is that I don't appreciate the shady tactics you use right in front of my face, like I can't see."

"You haven't made a fuss about it before," Wyatt replied, voice so wound up Raphael figured if he poked more, it'd snap. His hands were curled in large fists, shoulders slightly shaking. From rage? Sadness? Raphael didn't know, nor did he care to know.

"It wasn't in my best interest before. Gabriel handled everything, so really, I had a lot to lose. Now that he's dead, you have to rely on me."

He smiled. Wyatt did not.

"I know you're probably frothing at the mouth at the idea."

Wyatt didn't say anything, but a victory song played in Raphael's far imagination. For once in his life, it felt sweet.

"Funny how that is." Raphael folded his hands neatly in front of himself, looking to the folders, then back to Wyatt's face, expectantly. "I don't want you to fall behind, so please review them. I'd rather you do them now so I don't have to fax them to you in New York." He stared until Wyatt was the first to break the uneasy staredown.

"...I don't know what's gotten into you, boy, but it's disturbing." Wyatt said, more bewildered than anything.

"I take it you'll do that for me?" Raphael asked, pleasantly, like it was a business transaction. With Wyatt, it always was. He was more of a boss he tried to suck up to than his father. 

Wyatt didn't answer, but he opened the folder with begrudging fingers and that was enough for Raphael to be satisfied. 

"As for how I'm acting," Raphael said that the door, catching Wyatt's fleeting attention, "You know...I'm overbrimmed with grief."

When he left the room, the confidence rushed out of him, leaving him cold and empty. He shook his head, fending through the mist, and he trudged back to his room. 

Suddenly, he was very tired.

Suddenly, he felt like he could cry.


	3. Brothers.

* * *

_Raphael was always used to sitting at the dinner table, waiting._

_When he was younger, there was a parent at each end, watching over their young, but since their departure, it was just him and Gabriel. Staring at each other. More often than not, Gabriel had his head ducked over his plate of food that he and Meghan put together._

_"I made your favorite," Gabriel would say. His voice was always grating to Raphael's ears. He was just a fly that Raphael wanted to squash against the wall and watch the guts run. He was always buzzing around, and he could never be quite hit in the angry, festering way Raphael wanted to. Beside Gabriel, Meghan sat, awkward in silence. She had her periwinkle blue hair pulled up in a pineapple sprout ponytail, the brown roots bleeding into the unusual color. He recalls hearing her complain to Gabriel about redying it, and he had confirmed, because the messiness of roots poking through had been bothering him lately._

_Raphael recalls his father placing a 'no dyed hair' rule on the office. He wonders, briefly, why it wasn't enforced with Meghan, since she was Gabriel's scurrying partner in crime. Formally known as an assistant, even for her young age. Hell, Gabriel was nineteen and managing an office on his own; it wasn't surprising that at eighteen, Meghan was doing a lot as well, since Gabriel wanted it._

_Whatever Gabriel wanted, he got._

_"Did you even hear me?" Gabriel asked, his glossy lips pursed out. Raphael hated how effortless he could put himself together and look **grand**. Gabriel could probably shave his head and dress in patchy clothes and he'd still manage to look like the little angel their parents raised._

_Then again, that would never happen. Even considering it was a wild change of direction. Gabriel was so invested in his appearance it was ridiculous. He was always checking his reflection in the foggy reflections of cars or crisp, clear ones of mirrors. Not a hair out of place, no sleek makeup smudged. Gabriel carried himself with crumpling pride. The funniest thing about him, in general, was that he never liked to be looked at. If attention was turned to him, he'd crumple and buckle, bounce and become irritated. Pearly teeth would gnash and tear at his plush bottom lip, pulling, but never tearing. It will never bleed._

_Scabs were ugly, and Gabriel simply couldn't be **ugly**._

_Raphael never carried himself the same way. Perhaps he should, because maybe his parents would look at him the same way they looked at Gabriel. With awe instead of nothing, because nothing was worthless to him, and nothing he did could amount to Gabriel just breathing._

_He pressed his lips together at the mere thought._

_"Raphael, did you-" Gabriel tried again, a bit frustrated, and Raphael snapped._

_"Yes. **Yes** , I heard you." He hissed back, taking a deep breath. Meghan pursed her lips together, full cheeks bunching up. She was always a piece on the board that shouldn't be here whenever the two fought._

_"Okay, and? Do you like it?" Gabriel snapped in return, "I made it for you. Will you be happy for once?"_

_"Okay." Raphael wasn't sure what to say about this. 'Thanks' would suffice, but he didn't feel like giving Gabriel that win. 'Okay' was bland and impersonal and would work for something like this._

_"I used a special seasoning this time around. Does it taste better than before?"_

_"It's a little much."_

_"What about the meat? Medium rare, just like you like, I know you don't like when the pink shows-"_

_"It's a little undercooked."_

_"Oh."_

_Raphael had barely touched his food. He had this strange phobia that Gabriel was just trying to get rid of him, or something. He didn't think Gabriel was just going to poison him, no, because Gabriel was a tryhard, but Raphael was afraid that if he gave in, just a bit, he'd be just a fool like his parents. Like Nicolas, who pined over Gabriel like he was a walking God, like Meghan who trusted in his friendship and like Pixie, who desired to marry Gabriel when they were older. Or now, with how feral she got at times._

_Raphael was not going to be like them. He refused to be another mindless admirer._

_So, Gabriel was kept at an arm's length. Maybe more, if possible._

_Sometimes it didn't even feel like they were brothers._


	4. White Walls.

* * *

Raphael was used to the sound of the phone ringing.

There was something oddly nostalgic about it. Sitting in his office, staring at the faux plant that was shoved up behind the door for a poor attempt at decor, with the computer blinking tiredly at him. He didn't look at it, because he knew the report was staring at him, charts and graphs and spreads begging to be done. He had to handle the finances, because that was his position, but that was a placement given pre-Gabriel's absence.

He aimed to fix that for himself.

In his office, he could hear the life outside. The clicking keyboards and mouses of those whose desks were far too close to his own, the soft chatter, and the hisses when coffee sloshed onto crisp shirts in staining droplets. He could hear life outside his office, where it was too quiet in his head. He almost wanted to reflect on those sad and dreary days where he was just that: sad and dreary.

Raphael caught his bottom lip between his teeth, bit lightly, then released it in a huff.

He wondered if he should go out and observe the floor. It wasn't like he was doing anything rightly productive, anyways. He debated, briefly, if he would look normal playing the part of a grieving sibling. No, that would be even stranger, and they'd catch on quickly.

"It's odd to have the office quiet," Jasper's voice cut like an invading knife through his mind. Raphael lifted his head to be met with the cool, collected eyes of his boss, standing before him like a lurking figure. He was stark and proper against the colorless walls of Raphael's office, painting himself to be the perfect patron.

"Is it?" Raphael replied. His ears started to ring, faintly, but he brought himself together, even if he felt like a patchy, made-up mess. He didn't want to be too transparent with how he felt, so he tired to make it seem like he felt nothing at all.

"Without the bickering, I feel like many of us are displaced." Jasper paused, leaving the moment heated and fired up with something he couldn't particularly care about in the moment. Raphael was wondering what he was searching for.

"Of course," Raphael swallowed thickly, feeling the backs of his eyes burn with tears he had yet to shed over the matter, "I don't know what to do with myself, honestly."

"Mhm," Jasper's hands came together, folding in front of him serenely, "I came in here to tell you Meghan wishes to speak to you."

Raphael rose an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"She has some concerns about arrangements following Gabriel's passing."

"Then I'll speak to her," Raphael decided, because he really wasn't doing anything. It was better than sitting there. 

Jasper dipped his head in response, moving to the side as Raphael pushed away from his desk and made his way over to the door. He paused for a moment, to which Jasper looked at him curiously, his head slowly tipping in question at Raphael's lack of movement.

"Is there-"

"Do you think Gabriel went to Heaven?" Raphael asked, abruptly. He could tell it took Jasper by surprise, which he was kind of hoping for, in the very least. When he didn't get an immediate answer, he continued.

"I mean, I just think it's funny to imagine him prancing around in silk and feathered with wings, don't you?" He chuckled, the wear obvious as his shoulders slumped in sorrow, "A part of me hopes he did."

"A part of you?" Jasper questioned, eyebrows furrowing.

"Of course, the only one who knows where we end up is God. As you know, Gabriel wasn't exactly the poster boy for good souls." Raphael watched Jasper carefully, but in the end, he knew there was no point. Jasper was always an impassive slate, something that couldn't be painted on. Emotions were foreign to him and he always looked like he was a barely functioning robot. Nothing, and Raphael meant _nothing_ , could stir Jasper from the icy facade he placed himself in.

"It's just a thought," Raphael dismissed his own unanswered questions with a wave of his hand, "Just a wonder."

He stepped into the community office, severing the conversation he had with Jasper, who lingered with more questions on his own tongue than he could comprehend.

* * *

Meghan was waiting near the cooler. Of course she was; it's where her and Gabriel would often sneak off to when the office got too crowded for them. Raphael knew of this place, Jasper knew of this place, but no one did anything to stop them.

Of course not.

Moving forward, he could hear the dainty sniffles and wails coming from Pixie. He wasn't sure why she was there, given he was certain that she'd disappear along with Gabriel, but he supposed she was milking this for all it's worth. Rounding the corner entirely, he could see the ducked golden head and jingling bracelets as Pixie wiped furiously at her eyes.

"Dab, honey, not rub." Gia instructed from where she was trying to deescalate a situation. She always was a real angel. "Pixie, I- oh, Raphael." 

Ah, so he was caught.

Straightening his posture, he nodded to her with a small smile. Gia, who looked tired and in a desperate need of a break, regarded him with a smile wider than his own. It made his heart stutter in his chest.

"Hi," He greeted, a bit meekly, before clearing his throat. "I'm here to speak to Meghan. Jasper said-"

"Yeah, yeah." Meghan tossed the mascara stained tissues at Pixie, who plucked them from the floor like she was a bird sweeping plankton from the seabed or something, with the way she wielded those acrylics. It was admirable, if Raphael wasn't convinced she could kill a man with those.

If she had the guts to kill, anyways. She couldn't even push herself past the heartbreak that came with crushing on Gabriel. 

Death was just another ploy to get attention at this rate.

"I'll be back," Meghan told them, before turning back to Raphael. She didn't meet his eyes. "Gia can take a break after this, right?"

"Of course," Raphael replied, rumbling with pleasure at being addressed as someone who could give breaks. Meghan dismissed herself and the two herded themselves into a more suitable talking condition.

"What's this about?" Raphael asked, remaining pleasant. Meghan had been nice, and really, he was more indifferent about her than anything. He wasn't going to throw her around if there was no need to - metaphorically speaking, of course.

"I'm worried..." Meghan chewed on her bottom lip. She still didn't look at him. "I'm worried about my position in...the office...and at home-"

"Oh?"

"I have nowhere else to go!" Meghan was distressed, either from speaking to him or asking him of this in general. Her cheeks were a bright red from asking, probably embarrassed. 

"I know," Raphael did know this. Meghan was an orphan before she met Gabriel, so he was very aware of the circumstance. "You're more than welcome to stay, in both."

"Really?" Meghan perked up.

"Of course, I thought it was obvious. I'm not cruel." He replied, to which she beamed up at him, before turning to assure the others her livelihood was saved.

Dinners will be awkward and perhaps they'll avoid each other.

Raphael couldn't help but hum.

**Author's Note:**

> ocs shared and co/written with ; @starletscarlet


End file.
